The Return
by Lyrastales
Summary: Voldemort is gone, but Tom Riddle is back - and his mission is to destroy Harry. This was written for the Takingitinturns exchange on LiveJournal. Thank you to Flyingcarpet for beta-reading.


**The Return**

It began with a whisper and a glimpse of a dark-haired boy half a century old, and ended with a kiss, as all good romances do.

It began with a whisper because one did not shout Voldemort's name, even now that he was dead, discarded in the little graveyard in Hogsmeade. So the first person to recognise Tom Riddle – a thief named Mundungus Fletcher, who had long ago picked that same Tom Riddle's pocket and been cursed for his trouble – did not say the name aloud until he was alone and half a bottle of Firewhisky to the good. Even then, he only whispered it to himself, testing out the words. Then he shuddered and drank until he could forget.

That first whisper echoed and swelled as more people glimpsed him and the rumours spread, swirling through the wizarding populace like dust.

_Tom Riddle._

_Tom Riddle._

_Tom Riddle is back._

_Voldemort is dead, but Tom Riddle is back._

_Back._

_Back._

_Riddle is back._

_Tom Riddle. Is. Back._

The rumours swirled and eddied through London and beyond, scattering fears unspoken and dread unnamed. Meanwhile, the person who should have been most alert to them - Harry Potter, vanquisher of Voldemort; the Boy Who Lived - remained unaware.

How it happened: Minerva McGonagall took what was left of Voldemort to the Hogsmeade Cemetery, burned it and buried the ashes in a corner. A good deed performed because she remembered the boy Tom Riddle, before he became a monster, and for Tom Riddle's sake, she laid Voldemort to rest as if he were a normal person. Afterward, she returned to the castle and her life, believing that no one would know.

But she had been seen. From the shadows stepped a man - an angry, bitter, deposed Minister for Magic of a man, who had been under the sway of the Imperius Curse for ten months, and who knew the Ministry's deepest secrets.

Gathering Voldemort's remains, he Apparated to the Ministry of Magic, not yet closed to him, where he took out the time-turner that nobody else in the world knew had been saved. In the Department of Mysteries, he used the time-turner to summon Tom Riddle, who had been Voldemort, from beyond the Veil.

(Why? Why does a Hippogriff fly or a Niffler dig? Because he had been under the Imperius Curse; because he did not understand what was happening to him; because he knew Tom Riddle when they were prefects at Hogwarts; because he was angry and bitter; because he could; because, in the end, he was merely a man making a bad choice.)

An _immediately_ bad choice, because the first thing Tom Riddle did upon stepping through that Veil was to snatch Thicknesse's wand and murder him with it.

Tom Riddle - that particular Tom Riddle who was resurrected by Pius Thicknesse - was eighteen and had not yet learned the value of assistance, which was why he killed his saviour. Once he had slipped out of the Ministry of Magic, he found rooms with an elderly witch whom he tracked home from Diagon Alley, and who, once he had finished with her mind, believed he was her grandson. In her rickety house he sat and listened, and when the old lady had nothing more to tell him, he ventured outside and bought newspapers, books, magazines – anything that would help him make sense of who he was and of what had just happened in wizarding Britain.

It was in a magazine that he found the photographs: a young couple, unaware of the camera invading their privacy, intent only on each other. Thanks to his research, Tom Riddle needed no captions to tell him that this was Harry Potter, living a life of freedom and happiness after destroying Voldemort. It took very little time to reach the logical conclusion.

Tom Riddle would destroy Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>While Tom learned all he could in preparation for his attack, the subject of his research was not thinking of him at all. In fact, Harry was thinking as little as possible of Voldemort and of everything that had happened since that night, twelve months previously, when Dumbledore had tumbled from the Astronomy Tower. It was summer; he was alive and Ginny Weasley still loved him. That was what he wanted to focus on.<p>

So he did not hear the rumours, and when Ginny spoke of letters to _The Quibbler_, discussing the odd sightings and hints, he dismissed them with a kiss.

Until Tom Riddle took Ginny Weasley, Harry believed that all was well.

He had been busy all morning. There was an interview Kingsley had talked him into giving, after which he was dragged off by Gawain Robards of the Aurors to discuss his impending training.

"You'll get no special treatment round these parts," Robards barked. "You'll just be Potter, so if you're not all right with that, better tell me now."

"That's exactly what I want," Harry replied.

Robards nodded. "Glad to know it. I'd heard good things about you – and those two friends of yours. They interested in joining us?"

"Ron is," Harry said, "definitely."

Robards made a note. "I'll get him in. You three have shown an extraordinary capacity to break the rules." He glared up at Harry. "Now I have to teach you how to keep them."

Harry left with a bounce in his step. Kingsley had strongly implied that the Aurors would have him if he wished, but he hadn't quite believed it until today. Exiting the Ministry of Magic, he swung his arms in relief. He didn't have to go back to Hogwarts and pass his exams! It was only now that he realised how much he had been dreading that prospect. Parts of it would have been fun, of course; for a moment, he thought dreamily of spending all that time with Ginny, discovering the secrets of Hogwarts without her family watching over them. But the idea of working hard all year on subjects such as Potions had dismayed him.

He paused for a second to get his bearings, then headed toward Diagon Alley. He couldn't wait to tell Ginny the news.

Ginny, however, was not at their agreed meeting spot, the newly renovated Fortescue's. Harry waited through an entire treacle sundae before setting off in search of her.

George hadn't seen her in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and neither had Verity. This wasn't terribly worrying since, knowing Ginny, she'd have finished her errands before dropping in there. But as he checked shop after shop and found that nobody remembered seeing her, his anxiety grew. Finally, he found Luna in Ollivander's Wand Shop, and discovered that she was also seeking Ginny.

"We were supposed to meet so we could buy all our school supplies together," Luna said, her usually serene face creased with worry. "It's not like Ginny to be unreliable."

"No, it's not," Harry agreed. Panic was blossoming inside him, along with the chilly realisation that if someone wanted to get at him, Ginny and her family would be the obvious target. Had something terrible been done to her because of him?

"You might check at The Burrow," Ollivander suggested from behind the counter. He was still pale and very thin after his months of incarceration, but determined to keep working until his grandson could take over the business. "It's possible something kept her at home." But his shadowed eyes suggested that he did not believe his own words.

It was a sensible idea, so Harry accepted the offer of Ollivander's fireplace.

Mrs Weasley's face blanched when he asked if Ginny was there. "Well, no, Harry, I thought she was with you. Isn't she?" Her face collapsed into the kind of panic he was trying to suppress in himself.

"No," he said, forcing his voice into calmness, "and she didn't turn up to meet Luna, either."

Mrs Weasley had turned away as he spoke; now she screamed.

Harry didn't need to follow her pointing finger to the clock on the wall. He knew where Ginny's hand would be pointing.

_Mortal peril._

* * *

><p>Tom Riddle was pleased with himself. Really, snatching the girl had been easier than he had expected. All he'd needed to do was take her arm as she waited outside the bookshop, and Apparate them both to his chosen location. Oh, she'd put up a fight once there – quite a good fight, actually – but unlike him, she did not know where she was, and he had all the time in the world to subdue her. Nobody would disturb them here.<p>

He had known immediately where he wanted his triumph over Harry Potter to play out. The place where he'd conducted his early experiments; the place where Voldemort, later, had hidden part of his soul behind an impressive web of charms and curses. Yes, this was a good place to lure a victim.

The girl was watching him, her face screwed into fury. She would have been pretty if not for that scowl. He grinned at her, and her eyes went blank with fear.

"He'll be here very soon," he said softly, and felt power course through him, as if strengthened by anticipation.

* * *

><p>Harry was not kept in suspense for long. He had just arrived at The Burrow when one of the Diagon Alley post owls tapped on the window with a letter for him.<p>

The writing was clear and precise, but the words were so shocking that it took a moment for them to sink in.

_Dear Harry,_

_I have Ginny Weasley. If you wish to see her again, meet me in the cave where Albus Dumbledore drank his last. Do not bring anyone with you, as this will result in her death._

_Tom Riddle_

_Tom Riddle?_ "Why's it signed 'Tom Riddle'?" Harry demanded of Ron and Hermione, who had run to meet him as he arrived. "Riddle's dead. Voldemort's dead."

"Maybe not as dead as he should be." He could feel Hermione trembling as she peered over his shoulder to read. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry."

"No," Harry said. "He's dead! It's a joke, it's got to be."

Hermione pointed at the letter. "How many people know about that place?"

He looked again. She was right; the only people who knew about the cave were Harry himself, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. He'd been meaning to mention it to Kingsley, feeling that the Inferi, who were after all only Voldemort's victims, deserved to be laid to rest. But so far he had avoided it, along with everything else that pertained to the horror of the past few years.

"So, is he really back?" asked Ron, craning his neck to read the letter.

"He can't be," Harry snapped. "It's a joke, it's got to be."

"But you've heard the rumours," Hermione said timidly. "There've been letters in _The Quibbler_, and everything."

"But he can't be back," Harry protested. "He's dead. We all saw him die."

"There are ghosts," suggested Hermione.

"Yeah, but he had no soul left to make a ghost with," said Ron. He reached out and took the letter. "Let me read it properly."

"I don't know what you think you'll pick up that I haven't already," Harry snapped. His mind was filled with visions of Ginny with Tom Riddle's hands around her slim neck, pushing back her curtain of red hair, murdering her on a whim. "It's all pretty clear."

"All right, mate," Ron said as he read. "She's my sister, remember? I just want to see what it says."

"It says he's taken her to the cave," Harry yelled. "The cave where Regulus Black died, where Dumbledore drank that potion that nearly killed him. It's filled with Inferi…" He ran down. "I've got to go. Now."

Lips pursed, Ron handed the letter back. "You're not going by yourself."

"You see what he said," Harry said, forcing himself to speak calmly. "Unless I go alone, he'll kill her."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Harry felt, as he often had in recent weeks, that he was being shut out of a conversation. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, wasting time while Ginny was at Tom Riddle's mercy, perhaps being tortured even now.

Turning his back on them, he Apparated away.

* * *

><p>Tom secured the girl beneath the basin that had once proved so useful, and sat back to admire the sight. As an afterthought, he removed the Silencing Charm he had placed on her. Potter would be a while yet, and she might prove entertaining.<p>

For a moment she merely glared at him. "I don't know what you think you're doing," she snapped finally.

"Wreaking vengeance," he answered, and his imagination filled with fire: fire to bring down on this world that had rejected him, and in particular on the man who had stolen his future. Oh, yes, he was looking forward to this.

His reverie was interrupted by the girl.

"You don't know Harry." She was lovely as she leaned against the pedestal, betraying no discomfort over her invisible bonds. He thought of what he would do to her after dealing with Harry Potter, and decided that he would enjoy it.

"No," he agreed. "But I've studied him. Unlike my predecessor, it seems. That was his fatal mistake. One of several."

"Your predecessor?" Her laughter held an edge of hysteria. "Is that what you call him? Why not use the name? You did before."

"I've decided not to use that name," he said. "This time, I shall be myself; it will be my name that the world will learn to fear."

She did not seem to have heard him. "You don't remember me, do you?" She waited, and he waited. "Or no, maybe you were never there at all! So you don't know."

"I know everything," he said, suppressing the doubts that her words aroused. What was she talking about? Had Voldemort encountered this girl – this chit who had snared a hero – before? "I've studied everything about Harry Potter and how he caused the downfall of Lord Voldemort."

It had been difficult to acknowledge that Lord Voldemort had made mistakes. When he had returned through the Veil, Tom had been full of dreams and ideas that included Lord Voldemort. Until he had researched; until he had discovered all the errors of judgement that had been made; all the little misconceptions that had added up to one big result: death. Things would be different this time. Very, very different.

The girl was laughing. "You don't know Harry," she said, and in her full-throated voice the words poured forth like a prophecy, "and you don't know me."

* * *

><p>Harry stood on the ledge outside the cave and tried to gather his thoughts. The place looked very different in daylight, the looming rocks both softened and sharpened by sunshine, and the tide so low that the swim from the mainland was more of a trudge. It was easier, now, to imagine Tom Riddle luring his fellow orphans here, to do to them whatever nastiness had been done.<p>

Tom Riddle. He had given up wondering _how_ Riddle was here; the important question was what he intended to do. Harry had a sudden vision of Ginny from long ago: a small, thin figure sprawled on a stone floor, pale and unmoving as the life melted out of her.

He raked at his palm with his wand and smudged blood against the rock. It disappeared instantly, revealing the dark, silent cavern, with the paler dark of water on one side.

He lit his wand with a murmured charm and set off into the darkness, anxious thoughts pounding at him with every step. Voldemort was dead, every part of his soul gone, disposed of by basilisk venom, Fiendfyre or the Sword of Gryffindor. Or by the killing curse. He rubbed his forehead and another thought occurred to him. His scar, which had always hurt when Voldemort was nearby, was causing him no discomfort.

Was it possible that this Tom Riddle was somehow _not_ Voldemort? That he was another incarnation of the same person?

Harry slowed, suddenly aware that in his headlong rush he was laying himself open to an ambush. He would do Ginny no good by allowing Riddle to pick him off here.

Walking more cautiously, he strained his eyes through the gloom. Yes, he could make out the faint light where the island must be – where he expected Ginny and her captor to be, although he could not yet see them. Soon he would find the boat and would have to cross the water, avoiding the Inferi who lurked there.

Ginny was not yet of age – her birthday was the following week. Did that mean she did not count, in terms of the boat's enchantment? Or had Riddle disabled the anti-Apparition charms and taken her directly to the island? Assuming that he wasn't waiting in one of these shadows, ready to strike.

Harry trudged on grimly, all his senses straining for any sound or movement. Ginny was near. That was the important thing. He'd spent nine months on the run, daydreaming of her and tracking her progress on the Marauder's Map, and he'd had barely two months with her since Voldemort's death. He wasn't going to surrender that hard-won happiness without a struggle.

He stopped abruptly as the light from his wand revealed the boat – not hidden, as he had expected, but sitting unmoving on the bank, as if waiting for him.

_I need a plan_, Harry thought desperately as he clambered aboard. This was all too reminiscent of his encounters with Voldemort, in which he, Harry, had always been forced to react, react, rather than act. But he could not think what to do except to allow the boat to draw him toward the island; toward Ginny; toward Tom Riddle.

Gripping his wand tightly, he kept his eyes firmly on the glow from the island, trying to think as little as possible about the Inferi under the water. As he moved closer, he could make out a figure walking to and fro along the shore. Yes, that must be Tom, but where was Ginny?

In the next moment he found her, apparently unhurt, seated with her back to the pedestal in the centre of the island. He took a deep breath as he thought of what that pedestal supported: the basin with the diabolical potion that Dumbledore had drunk, and Regulus before him. Ginny's eyes peered hungrily at him through the darkness, and he smiled at her in helpless relief.

Tom Riddle stood just beyond the waterline, his wand held aloft. In his dark, flowing robes, he looked the part of a dark lord much more than Voldemort had, imposing and imbued with a sinister beauty that even Harry could acknowledge. As the boat approached the island, Harry caught Ginny's eye for an agonised moment before turning his attention to Tom.

"I left the boat ready for you," Riddle said, and his soft voice brought memories alive for Harry. Here was the teenager who had charmed Slughorn; here was the young man who had disarmed Hepzibah Smith and then murdered her. "I had a feeling you might come the Mudblood way."

"Yeah, you don't like Muggle things, do you, Tom?" Harry said. "Which begs the question: why are you using your father's name? What happened to Lord Voldemort?"

Tom shrugged. "Lord Voldemort is no more. I've studied his failures, and my approach will be different."

"Your approach to what?" Harry asked, springing onto the shore at a safe distance with his wand outstretched. He did not recognise Tom's wand, but it certainly wasn't Voldemort's - the one with the phoenix feather that matched his own. This one had been taken from some victim, no doubt. "Going to try mastering death again? Because you gave that a good shot last time, but it didn't work out too well for you in the end." He looked at Ginny, registering her oddly stiff posture, and realised that she was bound to the pedestal. _Hold on,_ he willed her silently. Her gaze flicked from him to Tom and back again, her expression unreadable.

"My first goal," Tom said smoothly, "is to destroy you. After that, I'll consider my next."

"All right," Harry said, keeping half an eye on Ginny. "How are you going to do that?"

"I propose a bargain," Tom said with a smile that was not charming at all. He waved a hand toward the pedestal – or toward Ginny. "Let's imagine, shall we, that at the bottom of this bowl is your prize. And let's imagine, too, that your prize is…this girl." Another flick of the hand, certainly aimed at Ginny this time. He smiled again. "So to win the prize…"

"You want me to drink the potion," Harry said, tiring of Tom's theatrics. He glanced at Ginny again; she was shaking her head at him desperately.

"If you drink the potion," Tom said, "right down to the last drop, and only to the last drop, I will take the girl out of here and leave her somewhere safe."

Harry nodded. "Leaving me here to die, is that right?"

"I shan't kill you," Tom said. "In fact, I won't do a thing to you. You may die, but I will have committed no crime."

"Whose wand is that you're using?" Ginny called. "How've you been living without a name, without money? How many people have you trampled over to get here, Tom?"

He turned to look at her and she straightened her shoulders, glaring at him defiantly. "None that matter now," he said and turned back to Harry. "What matters is: will you do this?"

Harry looked around, pretending to consider while stealing glances at Ginny, who was still shaking her head at him, struggling violently to free herself.

He still had no plan. All he knew was that he couldn't let Ginny die here. Not now; not for his sake.

Riddle picked up the goblet and held it out. "Will you drink?" he asked softly. "Will you drink to your lovely Ginny Weasley?"

"Harry, no!" Ginny yelled. "Don't you dare!"

"Ginny…" he said helplessly. He was thinking of that time, only a few weeks earlier but also a lifetime ago, when he had walked into the Forbidden Forest to die. He had died then to save others – so that Ginny, Ron, Hermione and all the others could live peacefully. He had died then because it was the only way he could see to rid the world of Voldemort.

He'd gone out to die - _had_ died, and yet also lived, despite his expectations. Was all that perhaps for this moment? So that he could now save Ginny, as he had once saved everyone? Looking at Ginny as she struggled against her bonds, kicking the ground in an attempt to gain purchase, her dark eyes wide and pleading, he made his decision.

"Give me that." He advanced slowly, hand outstretched for the goblet.

Tom watched him with narrowed eyes, his wand ready to counter any attack. As they faced each other, Harry had a sudden vision of what Voldemort could have been if he had not devoted himself to the petty pursuit of immortality at the cost of life. Tom Riddle was strong and handsome, with an intangible aura of power. Harry felt that he was facing a man – not a monster, as Voldemort had become.

Was this what Harry would leave to the world, if he died here?

They were within touching distance. Harry took the goblet and stepped away, turning toward Ginny.

"Harry, no," she said in a low voice. "You can't do this. After everything you've fought for, do you want to undo it all? You just can't!"

"I think I'd better move this one," Tom said. "No, on second thoughts…" He pointed his wand, and Ginny's voice cut off abruptly.

She flushed a furious red; by the movements of her mouth, she was now swearing violently – but no sound came out.

Harry knelt and kissed her, trying to put all his love for her into that brief connection. "_Finite incantatem_," he murmured, and then he could hear her again, hear her gasping for breath through the sobs in her throat.

Had he undone the other spells, as well? He watched closely; her eyes widened, but she gave no other sign that she was suddenly free of her bonds. "Harry, you mustn't do this," she repeated. "You _can't_. Think what he'll do after this."

"I love you." It was all he could think to say. He forced himself to stand, leaving her staring up at him in horror.

"Touching," Tom said. He had moved around to the far side of the pedestal. "I've never felt like that about anyone, and yet I'm glad others do. I find it heartwarming." He smiled.

Ignoring him, Harry leaned over the basin. The greenish potion looked just as it had done the last time he had been there, except that no golden locket glowed in its depths. He filled the goblet carefully and held it up, as he had done so often with other drinks in recent weeks.

"To Ginny." He gazed into her eyes one last time and hurled the goblet into the lake.

A pale figure in ragged clothes, with flowing dark hair and empty eyes, burst from the water before ripples had time to form. It landed at the edge of the water and others rose silently to join it. Harry raised his wand.

There was a thump, and he turned to find Tom bent double, staggering away from Ginny, who was still kicking out at him. She leapt to her feet and pounced on Tom, who collapsed beneath her weight.

"Should have tied me the Muggle way," she hissed, "stupid, evil bastard." She scrambled away from him, his wand clutched to her chest. "I've just spent a year fighting everything you stood for – do you think I'm going to let you do that again?"

The Inferi were closing in. "_Incendio_!" Harry yelled, and several of them scattered away from Ginny in flames.

Tom reached inside his robes and brought out another wand – Ginny's own – just in time to dodge a host of large, flapping creatures.

"You don't remember me," Ginny yelled, "but I remember you, Tom." She ducked left and red light flashed over her shoulder. "Oh, do I bloody remember you!" Harry had seen her angry before, but not like this, with her hair flying as she whirled and dodged, her eyes blazing. "I remember what you did, what you made me do, and you are _not_ going to have the chance to do that to anyone, ever again." Flames burst from her wand, and Tom staggered back, dousing them with water from the wand in his hand.

"Ginny!" Harry called, but she had already sensed the Inferi at her back; more flames shot from her wand and the creatures retreated to the water.

Cold fingers, immensely strong, gripped Harry's forearm."Incendio," he gasped, and the hand fell away.

When he turned back, Ginny's wand was flying toward her as Tom watched open-mouthed.

"My wand," she shouted and pointed at herself. "My mind. My body. _Mine_, not yours."

She hesitated as if wondering what to do now that she had disarmed Tom, and this time Harry took down the Inferi who were creeping up behind her.

Then the Inferi engulfed them, clammy hands pawing at him from every direction. He fought grimly, trying not to fear them; trying instead to think of them as Voldemort's victims, whom he was laying to rest – but it was impossible not to be revolted by their touch, not to be frightened by their blank eyes and brute strength. There were so many of them that he could barely glimpse Ginny through the throng, except for an occasional flash of her t-shirt or hair.

Tom's voice rang out across the cavern. "Hear me, Inferi! I am your creator! I am your master; hear me and do my bidding."

The Inferi around Harry melted away, leaving him with a clear view of Ginny – and of Tom. He was addressing the Inferi, his arms stretched high as if he were about to take flight.

As Harry ran to Ginny, a small part of him admired the gall of a man who could face an army of those creatures without a wand.

The closest Inferius, a woman, reached out and touched Tom's face. He did not flinch.

The woman stepped back, and for a terrible moment, Harry thought that the Inferi would obey Tom as they had Voldemort. Then the woman shrieked, her cry redolent with bitterness and loss, and her fingers raked at Tom's face.

As if it had been a signal, the Inferi crowded in on him; in seconds, he was off his feet and being dragged toward the water, still shouting orders with increasing desperation. Harry and Ginny scrambled into the boat and it moved off, its enchantment apparently undisturbed by the commotion.

Tom's shouts were sounding more like pleas by the second, and Harry wondered briefly if they should try to save him. Then Ginny grasped his hand hard, and the only thing he thought of was her.

Tom was gone long before they reached the path on the far side, but his cries echoed in Harry's mind as he and Ginny hurried along by the water.

The entrance was sealed, but they were both bleeding as they hurled themselves forward, and Harry wasn't sure which of them opened it in the end. They fell through and collapsed onto the rocks just as a wave washed over them.

"The Burrow?" he suggested, spitting out seawater.

Ginny nodded and kissed him; he tasted salt and what might have been blood. "The Burrow."

So Harry Potter escaped, and Ginny Weasley escaped, but Tom Riddle did not. As Voldemort had died, so did Tom Riddle – this particular Tom Riddle, who might have been different but was not.

Tom Riddle, a man and yet not a man, resurrected and yet failed, was consumed by the hard, cold lake prepared by Voldemort, and pulled into its depths by Voldemort's victims. The rumours about him swirled and eddied for many months, but he never left the darkness of his own creation, and never more returned to worry the world of wizards.

As for Harry and Ginny – well, it ended with a kiss. Do you need to know more than that?


End file.
